


You're the One That I Want

by pinkpatrick



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Grease (1978)
Genre: Grease - Freeform, M/M, and this isn't one either, broadway i guess, especially stumporta cause what the fuck there are no good long fics, fuckn standard trash oneshot, gabe as danny? isn't he a danny?, like one mention of pete lmao, so if ur like on the toilet it's probably a five minute read, this isn't long, whatever it was for a writing contest and it had to be under five pages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 14:11:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10492617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkpatrick/pseuds/pinkpatrick
Summary: Patrick is paired with Gabe Saporta in some Grease revival show. The problem is that it's Gabe Saporta, certified asshole.





	

Patrick had been ecstatic since his callback, not to mention when he was cast. He was confident that this would be the worst Grease Revival show ever put together, not that there were that many. It would also probably be the gayest, just by comparison. Because Patrick was cast as Sandy. If you think about it, the look was perfect. Golden hair, blue-green eyes, a little extra weight. Besides, the kid was golden-throated. The icing on the cake was his sense of humor that he openly shared with the directors. Someone more charming couldn't have been chosen. 

"Oh, a male Sandy? I got you. Sandrew." 

Someone more charming couldn't be chosen, but, oh, someone was.

His name was Gabe Saporta, and there was nothing he couldn't buy with a flashy smile. He lived with a godlike mentality. Not in the sense in which he would take advice from god or Jesus, but in the sense that he believed he truly was crafted by something holy. When offered something, he would mention something about how gods don't need material objects, but take it regardless.

The thing about Gabe was that he was everything you'd want. Imagine every man you've ever found attractive, combined into one Uruguayan macho man of your dreams, and there you go. He's 6'4", by the way, and everybody loves an ectomorph. And his attitude? Oh, he was a Danny at heart. Sure, he'd been blacklisted a couple dozen times, but in the theatre, that is what we call a fluke.

Patrick didn't exactly have a problem with Gabe yet. Mostly because Gabe was extremely late, and Patrick hadn't got the chance to meet him, so here he is, reading with an understudy. An understudy who the directors clearly didn't think they would need, silly guys, because look at him. This is Danny after he tried to overdose on something stupid like ibuprofen and went emo. His voice sounded like you threw gravel into a woodchipper.

"Don't- don't talk that way, Sandy," Understudy rambles, picking at a fray on the knee his gross jeans. It didn't take much for Patrick to question why he was here before he remembered; this was Broadway. There was no way he could give up at this point, no way he could possibly ever forget the way the lights feel in his eyes. This was where everybody wanted to be. They either wanted to be him, or they wanted to see him, and that was a feeling accompanied by pride, a lot of it.

Pride that remained with him until Gabe Saporta marched himself inside the rehearsal space and butt bumped Understudy out of his seat. HIs forever anthem playing in his mind is probably just My Prerogative by Bobby Brown. You see it, right?

Understudy, whose name is probably Pete, based on his name tag, stumbles forward after he's been shoved. He mutters something under his breath, but he know he can't answer to Gabe. Honestly, from the minute he saw Gabe's name on the cast list, he made a vow not to mess with him. It would only get more heated than it needed to be, mainly because Pete's kind of a fucking asshole, and so is Gabe. 

But one exception is okay. "Asshole," Pete mumbles slightly louder, hoping to get a reaction out of Gabriel.

Gabe only cares enough to raise an eyebrow and snap, "Let me live, woman."

Meanwhile, Patrick really just wants to get this first read-through done with. He'd been practicing for this, and he'd been working to get here since he was young as they come, and he didn't need some arrogant noodle man telling him what to do.

Currently, arrogant noodle man has his eyes on the script, rather than his co-star. But when he looks up at his love interest, he knows why he can't be late ever again. When Gabe falls, he falls hard, and there's approximately negative four percent logic involved. It's mostly because he very rarely falls, and chooses picking up girls at bars over love time and time again. It's not his fault.

This boy. He didn't mind if it wasn't serious yet, he knew what's his face would need some room to breathe at first, but they can make this work. Wait, what? No. Nu-uh. Gabe Saporta is a manly, unmarried man. He can't think like that. He loves no one. (Except his mama. And kind of his dad.) Papa doesn't speak a lick of English, and he's lived in America since Gabe was three. Get on it, dude. The moral of the story is the fact that Gabe doesn't love anyone, and he's an emotionless bastard in and out of character. Or so he (and a lot of other people) thinks. But- the way this kid reads his lines. Like he's never been more awkward, and boy, is that cute.

"Uh--" Patrick pauses. He has a little bit of a stutter. "I've- I've just had the best summer, y'know? And now I have to leave. It isn't fair, Danny, don't mess it up."

Gabe's turn. He's nervous. But he's never nervous. He didn't know what the word nervous meant until he was in the eighth grade, probably. "I won't!" He sounds sincere, more sincere than he does in real life when he's speaking to his girlfriend, or somebody. Mostly because Bianca knows that he no longer takes his life seriously, and she understands what Gabe does not; that it's not just a big old party.

But maybe he likes it like a party. And at parties, he kisses boys, forgets about them, and goes home. There's a thought. 

Patrick opens his mouth up to talk right after Gabe's millisecond of thought. Thinking is dangerous for Gabe, that's why he never does it. But before Patrick can speak, Gabe stands up and looks the directors dead in the eyes. "Hi. Hey. Gabe here. Your Danny?" He nods, "Yeah, we've met," he laughs, "I wanna take it from the top, and I wanna add everything. Blocking, actions--"

Travie, the director, holds a hand up, "We're just trying to get the script down first, Gabe."

"We're not gonna be able to memorize anything if we take it that slow. When's the show? A month? You're not doing so well, are you? It's a full-length show, Travis. We're starting now, or you can lose me, and use Pete. Oh, but you won't be needing him, right?" Gabe crosses his arms, smug. He just wants to kiss and forget this dude, too. Have Patrick join that little society that gets together on Tuesdays just to talk about how awful Gabe is. He knows they're not wrong. 

Patrick, however, is not feeling the same way, currently. I mean, yeah, Gabe's attractive, and Patrick wouldn't expect to be disappointed by a brief smooch. But he worked hard for this, and he doesn't have much faith in this guy. He already knows that he's the kind of person with all talk and no walk. But he stands up with Gabe anyways, and drags him offstage to one of the wings, watching the lanky man stumble after him. They wait for their cue, and by they, I mean Patrick, who holds Gabe there with the willpower of ten thousand fiery suns for about twenty seconds.

But the second they walk out, they are two different people. On a beach, swinging hands. At least, Patrick's different. If Gabe were ever assigned a role that resonated with him more than Danny Zuko, it would be Gabe, and there isn't too much of a difference, anyway. They're together and they look like they understand that it's meant to be that way. They seem like they understand the meaning of love more than they really do, and that they appreciate the people in front of them more than theirselves and their egos. 

Except Gabe. They're quite lovey in this scene. And Gabe knows the perfect opportunity to slip in a kiss. So that he can get over it and go home to hear his girlfriend yelling at him with that voice you think you hear when you're hungover. You know, how everybody's loud and shouting at you, when in reality, they could be whispering. Bianca's a true talent.

They're reading off the script, looking each other in the eyes as if they're first graders who'd had their first crushes on one another. 

"Danny, don't spoil it," Patrick pouts, eyes still large with anticipation and wonder that he painted in his mind.

"It's not spoiling it. It's making it better." Gabe places his hands on the sides of Patrick's face, skimming his thumb over his cheek.

"Danny, is this the end?"

Gabe leans in and gives a small laugh, looking him in the eyes. "Of course not." He crinkles his nose just to appear a little more sweet than he truly was. "It's only the beginning."

And with that, their lips collided. Yeah, this was the wrong decision.

Gabe's not gonna forget this.


End file.
